


FWIW Companion Piece #1: Amissum Victoria.

by CescaLR



Series: For What It's Worth & Companion Pieces. [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Character Study, Drinking, F/M, Gen, I suppose, In a way, M/M, Mentioned Ginny Weasley, Mentioned Hermione Granger, Mentioned Lavender Brown - Freeform, Mentioned Parvati Patil - Freeform, Mentioned Viktor Krum, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person Limited, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Relationship Discussions, Sort Of, Swearing, anyway, etc - Freeform, like never-a-relationship-but-a-possibility kind of past just fyi, look idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26242609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: "We're all fecking idiots," Seamus said.Harry couldn't help but agree.
Relationships: Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & Seamus Finnegan, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: For What It's Worth & Companion Pieces. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875412
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	FWIW Companion Piece #1: Amissum Victoria.

**Author's Note:**

> FWIW Chapter 3, section re: Quidditch Afterparty. Harry's POV.

The atmosphere in the changing room is jubilant, after the match. They won.

_They won._

"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yells Dean exuberantly. "C'mon, Ginny, Demelza!"

Ron and Harry are the last two in the changing room, after the rest clear off for the celebrations. Harry _knew_ it would work; the Felix Felicis fake-out. All Ron ever needed was a boost of self-esteem, because he did brilliantly last year, and just - because he's brilliant in general. At Quidditch. 

At the risk of sounding _sappy,_ the past few years have given Harry the impression that Ron is good at most things, so long as he doesn't think about it too much. Then his insecurities build up, and that's never good. So, faking a little rule breaking is _nothing,_ really, especially compared to what they've been doing for the past six years, and frankly - Harry doesn't think it's even that bad of a trick. 

It's only purpose was to show Ron he's perfectly capable on his own; that the only thing holding him back is himself. His worries and fears about being - Harry's not entirely sure. Not good enough seems to fit, but it's not a pleasant thought, because then he has to think about whatever gave Ron that impression. He's _more than_ good enough, and Harry's tried, recently, a few times quite memorably, to say that in so many words. 

He'd almost surprised himself, if he was honest; Harry is not really one for outwardly expressing emotion in terms of... things that are positive, and - keeping up a litany of confidence boosting compliments was something he'd thought he'd have struggled with, before he did it with no real issue for the time it takes to get to the second floor from the Quidditch Pitch. 

All when they weren't even really _talking,_ exactly. When there was that - awkwardness. And then after...

Harry's still not sure where Ginny got the impression he's been kissing Cho Chang from. Sure, she's - pretty, really _pretty,_ and she's cool and she's kind and she's great, and all, and it's not like he hasn't thought about it - he's thought about it since third year, in vague terms, and he did try to ask her to the yule ball in fourth year - but... last year they didn't really converse, ever, and this year they've - what, had some vaguely depressing conversations in front of a memorial? Not exactly the best location to have your first kiss. You know, in front of a picture of a girl's dead boyfriend that you watched die in front of you.

Harry grimaces at the wall, momentarily, and then things get worse, from an annoying train of thought to... Hermione.

"I want a word with you, Harry." She demands. It's about the Felix Fake-Out, Harry knows this, and he wants nothing to do with the inquisition. It's pointless, it's stupid. He didn't actually do it, and - thinking about the look on her face when he reveals that he didn't - a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Yon shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal." Hermione continues, her words simultaneously hilariously ironic and very annoying. Like something illegal has ever bothered her before - in fact, their most illegal actions to date have all been _her idea._ Harry rolls his eyes at the hook as he takes off the jacket and pulls it on; sometimes, Hermione can be very frustrating to listen to. It's the hypocrisy. 

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" Ron demands, a fair point, followed by; "Illegal doesn't seem to bother you normally!" Which is _exactly_ Harry's train of thought; he's glad they're on the same page. Still, he should probably fix the assumption that he actually did use the potion, because then that would miss the whole point of his plan, wouldn't it? If Ron went on thinking he had been dosed, then the original intention - to get him to realise he's more than capable at Quidditch and stressing about it was the only thing bringing down his performance - would be mitigated and, frankly, Harry might as well have not bothered. 

"Excuse me?" Hermione says, affronted. "What are you two talking about?" asks Harry, grinning, still facing the robe hooks to hide his amusement for a little bit longer. 

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" Hermione protests. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't." Harry turns around, still grinning. His right-hand pocket weighs with the minor heft of the potion bottle, full to the brim and still corked. 

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" Harry repeats. Knowing that his word won't be enough to convince them, he reaches inside his jacket pocket, surfacing with the potion bottle. Harry brandishes the Felix Felicis at them, the cork still firmly sealed in place with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." Harry says. It was... a little calculated. Hermione tends to assume the worst, most of the time; it helps to predict her reaction. If she wasn't _Hermione,_ this wouldn't have worked. Harry turns to face Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself." He tells him, entirely serious, because this was the whole point of the exercise. This was the part that mattered. Harry doesn't really feel bad about using Hermione as a crucial element of his plan; she never really understood the importance of Quidditch. 

(... And, fine, the more important part; making sure Ron didn't fall into some unfortunate downward spiral. He deserved better than that. Harry knows where some of it came from - Weasley is Our King is yet another reason he'd like to punch Malfoy, but that's nothing new - but he doesn't get all of it. Maybe it's just something about a big family Harry will never properly understand; the Dursleys are only three people, and they're not a good example of any kind of family, regardless of size. Harry doesn't have a point of reference. 

All of that is to say - he's not sure how normal it is, to feel the way Ron does about his older brothers. The pressure he expressed on the train in their first year; Harry doesn't know if that's just, a normal thing siblings feel. He's not like Hermione; one, he's not about to read Psychology Today any time soon, and two, he wouldn't call himself an expert in the subject after reading five books on it.)

He pockets the potion again. Ron's practically glowing - not that he doesn't normally, what with the castle running mostly on fire lights and his hair being bright red; glowing is his normal state of being and it's... just something Harry's noticed - and it's nice to see. It's nice to see it worked; that Harry's efforts to raise his spirits were not done in vain. 

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron says, halfway towards disbelief. "But the weather's - and Vaisey couldn't play." Ron pauses, then tentatively asks, "I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?" 

Harry shakes his head. Ron gapes at at him for a moment. Then, he turns to Hermione. 

" _You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything_! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!" He mocks, halfway to angry, now, glaring heatedly at Hermione. She blinks rapidly, then winces. 

Er. 

"I never said you couldn't - Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" 

"The only reason it worked is that Harry _knew_ you'd think he'd done it!" 

"Uh - " Harry says, "Guys -"

"Well," Hermione says, "You know how he gets about Quidditch-"

"Hey-" Harry says. This... was not his intention - though, wincing internally, he _had_ used Hermione's tendency towards thinking just that little bit less of Ron's capabilities, sometimes, as a _crux in the plan,_ something he, perhaps, should have thought through just a tad before he did because of, you know, this exact situation - 

"- But you - "

"Hey." Ron is interrupted, which is probably a good thing - but still, leaning past the entrance, Ritchie Coote is looking between them - them being Harry and Ron. "Are you two coming to the party or not?" He asks. "Men of the hour, and all. Everyone's waiting for you guys." 

"Yeah, 'course," Ron says, and walks past Hermione. Harry winces. "Wouldn't miss it."

"I have homework to do anyway," Hermione says, frowning angrily at Ron's back. "Have fun at your party, Harry."

"Not mine," Harry says, instinctively a retort, then winces again and jogs to catch up with Ron, who's anger has switched it's target, it seems, from himself. That was not quite Harry's intention, but... well, they'll figure it out, Harry supposes. They're alright at that; they got over their spat at the yule ball pretty quick like, didn't they? 

"So," Harry says, trying to think of something to distract his best mate from... this new issue that's arisen. 

"So," Ron repeats. "You didn't dose me." 

"No," Harry says. "I didn't."

"If you hadn't," Ron says, "Faked it... if you hadn't - I'd have lost us that match." 

Well. Yes, but... Well, yes. Harry grimaces. The _point_ was to show Ron - oh, for Merlin's _sake_. 

"Well, you didn't," Harry says, frank. "So you can't resign." _Please do not resign._ It's not really only because he doesn't want to have to put McLaggen on the team - and it's not really only because Ron's a very good Keeper, when he's not having a spike of insecurity - and it's _not_ because of what Katie accused him of (nepotism, really, Katie?) but... you know, Harry likes Quidditch, and he likes Ron, so it's a good time to play his favourite sport with his best mate. And Harry can trust Ron, if he ever fell sick, to do well as an interim captain, because Ron's very good at strategy, and he's very good at Quidditch. It works out. 

It's _not_ nepotism. It's not favouritism. Ron's just brilliant at the sport. 

Ron laughs, weakly. "Well, it won't work again," He says.

... When he's not thinking like _that._

"No," Harry says. "But - you know you can do it. You know you can block goals, you know you can -" Harry tries -

"I know," Ron interrupts, insistent. "But -"

"Stop it," Harry says, sharper than he meant. "I don't want to hear it. You're _good_ at this. I know you don't think you are but you _are."_

He _is._ Harry doesn't - he knows the Slytherin's campaign last year was fucking awful, and he knows that Grimmauld probably didn't help (it brought a lot of emotions up to the surface a person might have once thought long buried), and he knows Ron's got some general insecurities, but - Merlin, it's just. Harry doesn't get how Ron can't _see it._

Ron's _great._ He is. 

Ron looks away. Harry makes a very annoyed noise, and they're silent up to the common room. The Fat Lady congratulates them on the win, and then once inside - 

"I knew you could do it!" Harry hears, Lavender Brown's shrill voice rising above the crowd. The stares and grins surround them, separate them, and Harry finds himself standing on the edge of a circle surrounding Ron, in the centre of the room, and there's whoops, and cheers, a rendition of the revised Weasley is Our King, and a glass of Firewhisky is pushed into his hands, he's dragged over to a table by, of all people, Seamus, with a quiet "You won't want to see this, mate," and Hermione's nowhere to be found, probably off doing work because she's not really a party type of person, and once again, like a beacon, Lavender Brown's voice rises above the cacophony, a shrill, elated tone, "I knew it! You were brilliant!" And then she's throwing her arms around Ron's neck, and he has to catch her waist, and there's some whistling and suddenly, Ron's kissing Lavender Brown. 

Well, she slammed her mouth on his, and he moves automatically in response, lips smacking together somewhat nauseatingly. 

And Ron _keeps_ kissing Lavender Brown. All the way onto a chair in the corner, and then - then they get up, and Lavender winks at him, and drags him out of the common room, and Harry drains his Firewhisky. 

"What won't I like?" Harry says, far too belated. Seamus looks away from Dean and Ginny, kissing in the back corner of the room. "You know what," Seamus says. "Another?" He asks, rhetorical, and hands Harry another Firewhisky from his apparent collection of them he's got gathered on this table. 

Harry drinks some, and watches the fire dance on the stuffy, stagnant air of the common room. It's a room full of sweaty, gross, horny teenagers, and Harry suddenly wants some breathing room. 

"Yeah," Harry says, to the whisky, not to whatever the fuck Seamus thinks he knows, because he doesn't know _anything_. They're not even really _friends,_ are they? Seamus certainly changed his tune at the drop of a piece of ministry-backed paper last year. What the fuck does Seamus know about anything? 

Yeah, that's right. _Nothing._ Because there's nothing to know. 

"Dear god," Seamus mutters, "The things I do for people." He stands. "Go upstairs, get your cloak. We're gonna have a little chat." Seamus grabs three bottles of alcohol and then meanders out of the common room.

With nothing better to do, Harry does just that; grabs his cloak, goes back downstairs, borrows a couple still-sealed drinks from an empty table, and then wanders outside the common room.

"There you are," Seamus says. "What was that for?" Harry replies, removing the cloak.

"You're a scrawny git, Potter, I don't want anyone thinking we're dating," Seamus snorts, at the same time as Harry laughs, if perhaps a little awkwardly. "Fair enough," Harry says. "Ah, don't be like that," Seamus says, "My type is rather more football-fan shaped. Let's walk."

Harry frowns, then nods, slowly, and walks alongside Seamus down the corridor. 

"It's a bitch, isn't it?" Seamus asks. "In all fairness, with the way you've been acting around Cho Chang, lately, I'd've thought I'd be having this little convo' with Ron, first, but there you go. Things don't go how we think they should, sometimes," Seamus says, with an affectation of faux wisdom. 

"What?" Harry says. This is vaguely confusing, and not really because - as many years as they've spent in the same dorm - he doesn't really know Seamus all that well. It's more because what the Irish teen is saying makes absolutely zero sense. 

"You're annoying," Seamus says, plainly. "Wow, thanks," Harry says. "You too," He adds.

"I try," Seamus responds, "You don't. That's the thing - you're annoying without trying because you're _oblivious._ And not in the noticing things way - in the whole... emotional aspect."

"I.. don't get it," Harry says.

"See? You don't get it. Anyone who isn't blind would get it but - well," Seamus gestures to him. "Clearly, your emotional awareness is as good as your eyesight. Weirdly pin-point accurate with shiny golden things, but not much use in every other area."

Harry raises his eyebrows at Seamus, as he opens one of his bottles of - oh, some muggle beer, interesting - then downs some of it, before saying "Right," slowly. "And I should stay to finish this conversation, because...?"

"Because you need to _hear_ it," Seamus says. "And nobody else is going to say it, so I guess the grisly task falls to me. Grand." Seamus' tone has become intensely sarcastic. Harry's eyebrows climb higher.

"Look," Seamus says, coming to a standstill. "What did you think about Hermione and Viktor?"

Harry rolls his head back, an exaggerated motion of complete and utter annoyance. "He asked me the same thing," Harry groaned. "I didn't _care._ She's like my sister, for Merlin's sake-"

"And what did you feel seeing Lavender limpet onto Ron's face just then?" Seamus interrupted.

Harry blinks at Seamus, and then at the ceiling, and then takes another drink so he doesn't have to answer immediately.

"There you go," Seamus says, satisfied. "You have to think about it."

Harry frowns at him. "No I don't," Harry lies. "Good for her."

"Her?" Seamus presses. 

"Both of them," Harry barrels on, dismissively, bluntly determined to get past this topic as soon as possible. 

"What did you do this summer?" Seamus asks.

"What?" Harry says. 

"I hung out in the muggle world, mostly," Seamus says, "That's where we live, after all. Me mam threw a party for me 16th, and Dean came. We went to me Aunt's pub for dinner, saw a movie. He stayed the following week. It was a good day. Best week of my _fucking_ year, which is a _bit_ sad, but I've come to terms with that."

"Okay?" Harry says. "I told you the best day out of my summer," Seamus says. "Now tell me yours."

"Is this some weird bonding exercise?" Harry says. "Because I said last year was fine, wasn't like most people weren't thinking the same thing-"

"No, it's not," Seamus says. "Trust me, I'm doing this for my benefit, it's almost painful watching this unfold. More painful than watching Ron and Hermione flounder for three years, though frankly I'm glad _that's_ over."

"She's dating Krum," Harry says, grimacing. Yes, that had been annoying. He was... perhaps more relieved than he should have been over it all, but - that was understandable, because, what if they did get together? Would that fuck everything up? Would them being an item mess with them being friends? If they broke up, would that break everything else? Would Harry have to split his time between them?

If he ended up having to choose one over the other, Harry... Harry knows who he'd choose. It's not an easy choice, exactly, but he's said it before. Life's just _not the_ _same_ when Hermione's your best friend.

"Yeah," Seamus waves a bottle, dismissive. "Not the point. Should have done this sober." Seamus pauses. "No, I should _not_ have done this sober. Now..." He pauses again. "Tell me about your summer."

"Uh," Harry says, thinking about what he can and can't say. "I was with the Dursleys for the first part, and then I stayed with Ron's family for the rest of it."

" _Ron's family_ , alright," Seamus says, then mutters, _"Not the Weasleys, 'Ron's family', of course,"_ and then continues, louder, more for Harry's ears than his own, "What did you do?"

"Well," Harry says, frowning warily at him, "People were... coming and going, so it was empty for the most part - and with the war going on and everything it was... dull. We just hung out, I guess." Wandered around muggle London. Watched movies, sat in parks, stood around very confused at a modern art museum. 

"War," Seamus says, "Ruins everything. What was the best day?" 

Harry presses his lips together. The best day? 

"We stayed in London for a bit," Harry says, edging around the secrets he had to keep, "Around the Diagon time - and, uh..." 

Even if the museum itself had been shitty, that day had been pretty good. But so had most of them, really; the ones spent outside Grimmauld's cold, old walls. The fourth time they went to the cinema though, that takes the cake, Harry thinks. By that point it was almost like they were regulars, and the films were good, and that day had been a good one in general. Harry hadn't woken up feeling like shit; the house had left him alone, for the most part (either that or it had settled in and found itself right at home, which... Harry didn't want to ponder on that option) and he and Ron had non-english muggle food for the first time in either of their lives (Harry being a ward of perhaps the most boring people on earth and Ron being a wizard, this was not a common occurrence for either of them) and it had been really quite good - Laura, the lady at the cinema, had decent taste in food, it appeared - and... walking around London wasn't so boring, shooting the air with Ron. 

"Went around muggle London, a bit," Harry said. "Saw a movie at the cinema for the first time, so that was... cool."

"You're a real brick wall, aren't you?" Seamus says, rhetorically. Harry scowls at him. "There's not really much to say," He said. "It was a mostly boring summer, and a mostly tense summer, and I had a couple days of relief in the muggle world shooting the breeze with my best mate, not anything particularly interesting."

"No," Seamus agrees, "What was your best day _last year?_ And," Seamus added, "By last year I mean - last school year," Seamus grimaces. "So, I guess... I'm asking about some of this year?"

"Why are you asking all this?" Harry feels rather exasperated, partly at the questions and partly at Seamus just in general, for having decided to do... whatever the hell _this_ is. Still, he thinks about it, because last (school) year had not been the best of times, and yet also not the worst of them. Dealing with the aftermath of The Graveyard had been... iffy, to say the least, but he'd been a lot better by the start of the new year (sort of - seeing Ron's dad nearly killed from the point of view of the near killer was not pleasant and he'd had a minor breakdown over it... Ginny had helped, a little, in slapping some sense into him. Not _literally,_ obviously, but her words had hit home) and... so, 'last year', being this year, but - whatever, the end of his Fifth Year and the summer and the start of his Sixth Year, let's call it... it had been - fine. 

Better than it could have been. 

But the best day? Harry doesn't know. He doesn't really think about it - admittedly, Harry isn't the sort to dwell on the positive. He drinks his beer, to stall for time, as he thinks. 

... Probably one of the days during the Christmas Break, Harry thinks. He loves Hogwarts, but he doesn't love the crowds, and there's fewer people here during Christmas. And Harry could just do whatever, because classes weren't on. But he can't think of the best day, exactly, especially given some of that time was spent fretting about being posessed, but... after that, when it was dying down, and he was just... spending the days in the Room of Requirement with Ron, doing whatever came to mind, sometimes going out and playing some mock mini quidditch games... that was nice. 

Harry supposes his best day, or even his best week last year... is sort of similar to Seamus', in that respect. Harry's kind of - insular, he supposes. He's not one for large groups; if he has the choice, he'd rather spend his time with one or two people. And given the choice of people, Ron would always make the list. From what he's seen, over the years, Seamus and him are similar in that regard, too, except that Seamus is clearly more outgoing. It's just that the only person Seamus ever seems to really want to hang out with, in particular, is Dean, which Harry can understand. 

"I don't know," Harry says, anyway. Despite all that, because... none of this is really something he thinks about. And he doesn't want to, not really. 

He's been doing very well at the whole 'denial' thing. It'd be nice to keep that going. Cho _is_ lovely, and he's liked her for ages, and Harry _is_ happy for Ron, getting kissed by a pretty girl, even if Harry himself doesn't really like Lavender all that much. 

Or at all, really.

But that's not... really anyone's fault, exactly. 

"Okay," Seamus says, "Fine, be like that. Come on." And he starts walking. Harry trails alongside, with nothing better to do, and they end up at the Room. Once inside, Seamus flops down onto an armchair. Harry calls up his own, and sits opposite, still wary. 

"Let's not lie to each other, Potter, I'm too drunk for that," Seamus says. "I'm in love with my best friend," He says, and then laughs, "God, how pathetic." Seamus takes a drink from his firewhisky, watches the flames climb into the air. "At least the wizarding world is nicer about it than the muggle one," Seamus says. "Imagine; English-Irish kid - Mam from England and Dad from Southern Ireland - but also into girls _and_ guys, **and** from a heavily religious area." Seamus snorts. "Fecking aces." 

Harry grimaces, given very few options for a different reaction; Uncle Vernon had many choice things to say about the irish, too, among everything else he has god-awful opinions about. Harry knows what people can be like.

"Yeah," Harry says. 

"But you wouldn't get the first part," Seamus says. "Where you from? South, obviously, but..."

"Surrey," Harry says. "One of those aspirational areas. People who think they're better than they are."

"Desperate Housewives of Southern England?" Seamus snorts. " _Fun._ Religious?"

"Not really," Harry says. "A bit, I guess. Dursleys don't go to Church, though. Given the rest of their general shit, it's almost surprising they're not C-of-E or Baptist or whatever, but, you know."

"Is what it is," Seamus agrees. "What do they think of _queer folk?"_ Seamus snorts. 

"Uh," Harry says. "Well, I guess they just ignore it." Unless they happen to come across it in _public,_ in which case it is time for a patented Uncle Vernon's Awful Ranting About Things He Doesn't Like. Most of which somehow always loop back around to Harry. After having already looped back around to Harry about three times already. 

Harry is his Uncle's favourite topic to lambast, but rest assured the feeling is mutual. 

"And you?" Seamus asks. Harry snorts. "They ignore me, too," Harry says, "Unless there's something they want me to do for them. Not the best people around."

"Wouldn't wager they were, yeah," Seamus says. He seems to think about what he wants to say next - appears to ponder on how to phrase it. 

"The most important person in your life is Ron, isn't he?" Seamus says. Harry frowns at him. "I guess," He says. "First friend, and all. Why?" Harry asks, deflecting.

"Well, mine's Dean, for reasons that would be obvious if you'd been listening, earlier," Seamus says.

"You're in love with - Dean," Harry repeats, proving he had been. 

"I don't like it when I see him with Ginny," Seamus says, "Mostly because I'm pretty sure she's using him, but that's not the topic right now." Seamus presses his lips together, and Harry holds back a defence for Ginny, because... he's not entirely sure Seamus is wrong, exactly, he's just looking at it from a more... malicious angle than Ginny deserves, if she isn't as into Dean as he's into her. Or at least, appears to be into her. They kiss pretty often and he tries to pull out her chairs; Harry thinks that's a pretty decent flag of affection from Dean.

"Okay?" Harry says. Harry recalls Ron didn't like seeing Hermione with Viktor, either. Jealousy, he thinks, is a pretty general thing to feel, when you like someone while they're with someone else. Often a lot, but at least a little. 

"When Cho was with Cedric, what did you feel?" Seamus asks. Harry frowns at him.

"I don't really remember," Harry says, half-sharp. "Doesn't really matter, now that he's _dead_ and all."

"What did you feel?" Seamus presses, probably because he is, as he said, quite drunk. Harry is not drunk enough for this line of questioning; he downs his second beer, and then shrugs. 

"I mean, they were - together," Harry says. "She liked him, he liked her, good for them."

"Good for them?" Seamus presses.

"Yes," Harry says. 

Seamus sits back, again. "Alright," He says. "Let me try something else," And he stops talking, for a good five minutes.

Harry doesn't know what any of this is about. If Seamus thinks Harry is suddenly just going to start _talking,_ about his _feelings,_ he should get his head checked. 

"Fuck this, I'm not a therapist," Seamus says, "You're in love with Ron Weasley; deal with it," He continues, and then drains a bottle of firewhisky in one go.

Er. 

"What makes you think that?" Harry says, sharply. 

"Oh I don't know," Seamus says, "Maybe everything you've ever done in the past six years?"

"Well," Harry says, and doesn't have anything to add, because, _well._

"Look, rebuttals are kind of your thing, but I'm not hearing one," Seamus says, gesturing to his right ear as if to emphasise the lack of protests coming from Harry. "So. Welcome to the 'In love with our best friends club', there are three members and all we do is occasionally share commiserating glances."

Harry blinks.

"Who's the second member?" He asks, instead of anything else that would make sense, like a 'You're mistaken', even though... even though, admittedly, he really _isn't._

"Parvati, obviously," Seamus says.

"Oh," Harry says. 

That dose kind of make sense, Harry thinks. 

"Finish your beer," Seamus says, He sighs, and then, a complete non-sequittor; "We're all _fecking_ idiots," He complains.

Harry can't help but agree. He knows what Seamus is referencing, in that statement, or... at least he _thinks_ he does, and - it's... somewhat undeniable.

They're all kind of stupid, when it comes to - feelings. Romantic ones. Harry doesn't want to think about it, so he finishes his beer, and he doesn't. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> it has been four years (oh god) since I last did Latin, but that's still more Latin than Jake ever studied. Still, Amissum Victoria = Victory in Loss, hopefully. 
> 
> I probably should have put it as Loss in Victory, but oh well. 
> 
> Anyway... my reason for that is... uhhhh welll you know.... I couldn't think of anything else to title this alkjg;as sorry


End file.
